Tag: my work

Ancient eons ago, before mountains and canyons were born, we
were dragons.

We were mighty creatures with wings of taunt hide, throats
that brought forth billows of flame, and roars that shook the skies. We were
the predators of all, the prey of none. We were mighty, and we were terrifying.

We know this because we have the bones, and because we have
the carvings. We do not know what happened before, anything graven in stone was
lost. Lost to the same thing that took our wings- the storms.

An age of storms came. Whipping, ferocious, endless things
that plucked us from the sky like feathers and dashed us into the ground until
we stopped getting up again, until we dug into the ground to hide and left our
sky behind.

This much we know from the carvings. Our ancestors carved
their tales into solid rock, underground where the wind didn’t reach, and came
back to keep recording even as they delved deeper into the caves. For there
were caves, unknown lengths and depths of them, endless and unpredictable. And
they could not fly, so they delved, seeking ever to ease the need to move.

They were aware of what was happening. This is fascinating
to all who study it; they knew. Rarely does a species understand its own
evolution before written language develops, but they knew. They carved images
of themselves, of their children, of the differences beginning to emerge. Their
children were smaller and smaller, wings shrinking faster than anything else,
until they couldn’t fly even if they wanted to. Their proud necks shortened and
flattened, their spines lowered, their forelimbs lengthened, and their ribcages
became flexible to slip through gaps. Some caves contained explosive gases,
making fire a hazard more than a help, so they brought glowing fungi along and
left their flaming breath behind. They walked on their hindlegs less and less,
and then not at all, running along on all fours through the narrow crevices of
their home. There is a slope on the wall of history, images carved lower and
lower by shorter and shorter artists, and then…

Then it almost stops.

Something dreadful was happening. There was not enough food,
and rather than making us grow even smaller and become too small to catch it, it
tried to take our minds. A smaller brain needs less food, you see. Less food,
but less sapience along with it.

That is how we almost lost ourselves.

The carvings became less and less skilled, less and less organized. The ritual was still there,
every few generations going up to the record-cave to carve, but none seemed to
remember what it was for.

The thing that saved us from mindlessness was the same thing
that had almost sent us there; nature itself. This time, a volcano. One that filled
the lower depths of the caverns with unbearable heat, and in its rising cracked
the ground wide open.

Somewhere not far from the long-blocked first entrances, one
of our ancestors wriggled free of the dirt, stepped onto the surface of our
world for the first time in ages, and felt the wind again.

And remembered.

And the rest followed.

Some say it was the heat that drove them out, now that the
storms had ceased, but we know better. The heat encouraged it, but we are and
always have been creatures of the wind, of the sky, of the open spaces that no
single thing can hope to tame. Even our near-mindless, cave-dwelling ancestors
remembered it, and so they stayed. First near the surface, venturing out at
night,  then living on it once their skin
and eyes became used to the light.

Durable, flexible plating to protect against sharp rock
edges served us well against the blowing sand, powerful hindlegs to help us
scrabble through gaps brought us upright and let us run, and long tails let us
balance as we learned to walk upright again. Large eyes for dim light took
longer to adapt, but changed to let us see long distances, and our males began
to develop bright displays to take advantage of our regrowing ability to see
colors. Our females could never match the deep-chested roars of before,
especially with no flames, but they can out-howl any storm now.

Somewhere along the way, we developed hands, learned to use
tools, and started to write. But we kept carving, next to everything else,
telling our world what we had done and were still doing.

No one seems quite sure how we did this. We think it was
sheer determination. Whatever it was, we learned to harness the winds, the sands-
to bend them to our will. For they had taken our wings from us, and we were
determined to harness them, to steer them, to keep them from ever taking
anything from us again.

Our history is written on the walls of the first cave we hid
in, but, more permanent even than stone, it is written in our very cells.

Our children remember. They are born like we were at our
darkest hour- flat-bodied, feral, predatory and nearly mindless. They barely
recognize us, they often shun the sun, and they seek out animal burrows to hunt
and take refuge in. They remember what it was like to live in the caves, and
they relive it.

And some of them remember even further back. They remember what
it was to be dragons. So, soon after
their birth, they leave us. They run into the desert under the cover of night,
and that is it- we never see them again. Others find this sad, but… not to us.
They suffer no pain, no distress, and they find each other eventually.

The other thing that helps is that not all of them are of
such an ancient mind. The same night some of them leave, the rest look up at us,
understanding for the first time, and pull themselves to their feet.

Some of them may leave us, but the rest see us, and they
stay.

This is based off of the endgame around Diablo 3. A lot of the angels ( http://diablo.wikia.com/wiki/Angel ) can be found in their Heavens, impaled on things or tied to walls, and it’s suggested that more are held captive in various places. There’s also a number stranded on Pandemonium, a demon-infested battleground between worlds. Sharpclaw and my Nephalem characters objected to that being allowed to continue. 

I have and will be taking some liberties with angelic anatomy. 

Warnings for implied torture, nothing explicit. 

Basically, Sharpclaw rescues a large number of glowy, frightened cats. 

They were all frightened at first.

The ones lost in Pandemonium were less afraid, still with
some fight in them, but none had weapons to fight with. They tried, lashing out
with gauntlets to claw into him, but failed to do any damage beyond deep
scratches- which immediately had them retreating, frightened of the punishment
that was sure to come.

The ones found impaled in the Heavens, transfixed with agony
in their home that should have been safe, were shaky and too weak to fight.
They tried, but failed again, not even leaving marks. They were the easiest to
move, as well, low on energy and mass.

The ones rescued from torture pits were the worst. Many
didn’t have enough energy to manifest their wings, if they even had their wings left, and they were all
scarred and carved up and missing pieces of plating. And they were scared- shrieking terror or shutting
down entirely when he reached for
them, desperately struggling to escape as they were moved, but most of them
crashed to the floor the second they got out of his arms. Which didn’t help
their fear, only made it worse, and made it easy to tell when another former
prisoner had been brought in.

The Pandemonium refugees swore furiously when carried, and
the impaled ones hissed and grumbled as they were moved, but the tortured ones
either screamed wordless terror or made absolutely no sound. And it was hard to
decide which was worse- the screaming or the ones who were too broken to scream.

And none of them liked the person handling them.

The Nephilim? They killed demons. However powerful, however
frightening they were, they had that going for them.

This?

This was a demon,
or half-one. Larger than humans normally grew, and pale, incredibly pale. Red
pupils, long, white hair, pale skin that easily showed bruises- he almost would
have looked like something they were used to if not for a set of features that
were distinctly inhuman.

Humans were not digitigrade. Humans walked flat on their
feet and wore shoes, they didn’t walk on the last joints of long, clawed toes
with thick pads. Humans did not have swishing tails as long as their legs,
either. Most of all, humans did not have
short, pointed horns rising from their brows. Humans didn’t have digitigrade
legs, tails, and horns, but demons did.

This was a demon. However
gently it carried them, however much it tried to whisper soothing things to
them, it was a demon, and it was
going to hurt them, they were certain
of it.

Even if they were in a… strangely… comfortable place.

They were in a very large room inside of a stone building, a
castle. The floor was badly shattered, and someone had hauled massive chunks of
the stone into a large ring. The interior was filled with packed dirt which had
been covered thickly with straw, forming a relatively soft surface that was
about shoulder-height off the ground everywhere around it. The elevation was
minor, but much better than being on the ground or in a pit, and it meant that
they were together. They could press together with the worst injured inside,
the healthier ones on the outside for protection, and surround the
still-shaking ones with Angelic colors to help calm them.

Well. Calm them until every time the demon came back over.
It was the only one large enough to carry them, so every new arrival who
couldn’t walk was carried over to be placed on the plateau with the rest. Which
frightened easily half of them every time, especially when the demon turned up
wearing armor. Even when it spoke to them.

“Hey, look- I’m just a bit tired of you lot clawin’ my arms
up. I don’t blame you, but that hurts. So… armor. It’s- I don’t think any of it
is demonic? Just regular armor. It’s not gonna hurt you. Uh… right? What- are
you all allergic to steel? No? Okay. I’m gonna leave you alone.”

Not terribly reassuring. The thing did seem to be telling
the truth for now, though, it left every time it said it would. At least until
it came back.

And the last time it came back, it smelled rather strongly
of inhuman blood. One of their number was wrapped around its frame, claws dug
into its shoulders, screaming battle cries and striking at his frame with wings
that managed to badly singe its clothing despite being barely there. A warrior,
despite everything, who refused to be pried off and put with the others. The
demon wasn’t hurting the warrior, oddly enough, but clearly didn’t like this.

“Ow, ow, okay, can- can you not with the- ow, hey, I’m
trying to put you down, can you- ow,
all right, that’s- that’s my shoulder blade, I need that, can- ow, okay, I- fuck-“

The warrior’s last cry turned into a shriek of surprise as
frost puffed out around their torso from somewhere around the demon’s mouth,
and the demon took advantage of their surprise to grab them and pull them off-

A third of their number turned away and the rest bristled in
anticipation of the punishment that had to be forthcoming-

And then the warrior was tossed unceremoniously up with the
rest of them, and the demon backed away, swearing under its breath and shaking
its singed hands. “Ow! Sorry about that, but you had your claws on some nerves
or something, I- look, I was trying to put you down, I can’t really do that
with your claws around my shoulder blades! I-I get that you don’t like me, I
get that I scare you, but- if I wanted to hurt you, I would have already! I-I
wouldn’t be doing this. So… can you just… not? Ow. Now I gotta go find healing
potions again. Too bad those probably wouldn’t work on you lot.”

When the demon finally turned away, they were all torn
between apprehension and pleasure at seeing just how badly their warrior (who
is now shaking angrily and trying to scrape frost off their armor) had managed
to claw its back up. The back of its shirt was a tattered ruin, and the skin of
its back wasn’t much better.

Good.

Unfortunately, when it came back, it didn’t appear to be
injured any longer. Nor was it wearing a shirt. Which revealed… nothing
sinister. More pale-white skin, a few barely visible blood vessels, and an
assortment of mostly-minor scars. None of them were really looking at the
demon, though- they were looking at what was in its hand. It wasn’t holding
another of them, but a clay jar with a few thin wisps of smoke coming out of
it, which was very suspicious and
more than a little bit unnerving. No matter what it was saying.

“Okay, look, I’m not up to anything- well, I am, but it’s
not bad. This is a scent diffuser, it spreads smells around. It’s got some
herbs in it right now, and a little candle, and it heats the herbs up and makes
them give off good smells. It’s lavender, mostly, supposed to be calming. Look.”

Stepping a bit closer, the demon turned the jar around to
show a small gap in the side, through which a tiny candle was visible. “It’s
not anything dangerous. See? Just a tiny flame. I don’t know if lavender works
on angels, I don’t even know if you guys can smell anything, but… it’s worth a
try, right? It won’t hurt you, at least.”

They hissed angrily as the demon drew closer, but it only
placed the jar on top of a slab of stone and backed away, leaving the jar there
to continue giving off a scent.

Admittedly, the scent was… not objectionable. Not overly
strong or cloyingly sweet, just… a scent. They backed away from it as far as
possible nonetheless, but it didn’t seem to be doing anything unpleasant. Aside
from… smoking faintly.

That was the last time one of their number was brought in,
and no one else came close for long enough to let them settle and start talking
among each other.

Inquiries about whether old friends were alive, questions
about who knew what regarding their captor, about the Nephilim.

And none had any good answers.

Mostly, no, old friends were dead. Or were among the ones
huddled silent, dim, scarred, and unrecognizable in the center of the mass. A
few met old friends again, embracing and pressing tightly together, and refused
to be pried apart- they needed the familiarity.

No one knew what to make of the Nephilim, and quite a few
arguments stirred up over the topic. They were terrifying, that was certain,
powerful enough to take down even an Archangel. For the moment, their
attentions seemed to be focused on eradicating evil, but they were humans. Violent, unpredictable,
unsteady-minded humans. They could turn on a moment’s notice, that much was
certain, the question was of whether they would.

And the demon… that was the thing that had them all the most
confused. It looked like a relatively composed demon, but it bled like a human,
albeit with a strange smell. The frost, urgh- that could have been a spell, but
the breath origins made it seem demonic. It was warm, though, frost or not- it was warm through its clothing. None
of them really knew how warm humans were supposed to be, but it certainly
wasn’t demon-hot.

Must have been a hybrid, they decided, a human and a demon
breeding somewhere. Which made it three-quarters demon, which was close enough
to fully demonic for them to continue thinking of it as a demon. That was all
it was, after all. Even if it was… strangely gentle. Because that had to be a
trick, it did- that was the one thing they agreed on.

Well. Most of them.

A few disagreed. The quieter ones, weaker, still shaking off
the phantom sensations of chains and blades. When nudged, they spoke softly of
powerful hands putting shears to work against their bonds, pulling barbs from
their frames, a pale figure whispering reassurance before breathing frost
against overheated plating. They hadn’t enjoyed the various modes of transport,
any of them, but he’d settled them gently in the wagon and had carried them
carefully despite their struggling.

One of them who still smelled faintly of smoke had something
written on their chest, something which, upon inspection, was a sigil written
in charcoal. The sigil was cold to the touch, applied over plating that had
been near-melted by hellfire, and cooled any scorched plating brought near it.
Several of them wanted to remove the sigil, thinking it harmful, but the
scorched one retreated further and guarded it with both arms until they
stopped. And the sigil… didn’t seem to be doing any harm. It was a design they
didn’t recognize, not demonic in origin.

Eventually, they were distracted from their discussion by
the approach of… something. Something strange enough to bring many of them to
that edge of the plateau to stare. It looked almost like them, a suit of armor
with empty spaces in the joints, but it didn’t smell like them. Nor did it have
any light to it, anywhere. And it smelled of flame, that had some of them very
concerned, but it was approaching calmly enough- and they were curious. A construct, maybe? They’d
never seen the likes, but it could have been one. It was definitely animate,
and it chirruped a friendly noise up at them as it approached.

Questioning it yielded no clear answers, though. Either it
couldn’t speak, or it didn’t want to. It just reached up to set two buckets of
water near them, then added a few coarse cloths. Dipping one of the cloths into
the water, the construct (?) scrubbed rather blatantly at its own arm,
evidently demonstrated, then put the cloth back. Head tilted, it walked slowly
around the platform, looking up at them, then waved slightly and left.

Concerning, but no direct threat, and many of them jumped at
the chance to get the filth off their
frames. The water was clean, the cloths were soft, and they weren’t about to
stay this dirty for any longer. Not when none of them were strong enough to
burn their own frames clean.

Oddly considerate of their captors.

Probably bait.

Nevertheless… this wasn’t the worst situation any of them
had been in. Nice, if not for their suspicion.

They were still suspicious, though.

(This is based on one of my Diablo III characters, a demon hunter, who has one of these weird cow things as a pet. In the game, this type of pet runs around and picks up gold for you after it’s dropped, but doesn’t fight. The cow-pet occasionally gestures and stabs at enemies with her spear, but can’t actually damage them. http://diablo.wikia.com/wiki/That_Which_Must_Not_be_Named?file=TWMNBN.jpg )

Usually, when Dalu
followed the sounds of an animal in distress on a demon-infested farm, he found
the demons tormenting some poor animal that he’d end up having to put out of
its misery after he took care of the demons. 

This? This was not an animal, at least not any
he’d ever seen. 

The being snarling up at him from the ground
was bovine in appearance, but small, only about waist-height. More than that,
it was bipedal, long limbs folding strangely under it as it tried to back away
from him. It had bright red eyes, which were a bit odd, but the udder on its stomach rather cut down on any intimidation factor. Whatever it was, it was bleeding heavily from a deep wound on its
outer thigh, preventing it from standing up. The rest of it was dirty and
bloodied almost as badly, though it didn’t appear to be badly wounded anywhere
else. 

Dalu stared down at whatever in gods’ name
this was for several long moments, watching it scrabble uselessly to get away,
then sighed and reached for it. He ought to put whatever this was out of its
misery instead of gawking at it-

But it bawled in terror and pain as he grabbed
at it, kicking at him with its one good leg, and the idea of killing it faded
away. He didn’t really want to hurt it, strange as it was… maybe he could
patch the damn thing up and chase it off afterwards. 

It was quite a fight
to get the thing hauled off and bandaged up, and Dalu was sporting several
hoof-shaped bruises by the time he was done, but it had settled down
somewhat and was just staring at him from across the campfire. 

Which left him wondering what to feed it. What did one offer something shaped like this? 

Hm- might as well try and ask. “And what do I feed you? Hay? Raw meat? The flesh of newborns?” 

The thing didn’t respond, so Dalu watched it for a moment more, then pulled a piece of dried meat from his pack and slowly held it out to the thing. Whatever it was, it bled like an animal, and he didn’t feel like he should just let it starve.And Dalu was curious- what did this eat? 

Meat, apparently, because it snatched the meat away from him and gulped it down in several large bites. It then sat up further, looking very interested, and stared hopefully at the pack until he gave it more. Quite a bit more, actually, he had plenty. Those giant beasts he kept having to kill so they’d stop charging him didn’t taste half bad when smoked, and he wasn’t about to run out of beasts to slay any time soon. Now, what else could he feed it? 

Turned out he could feed it just about anything he tried. An old carrot, some hardtack, a large handful of long grass from near a creek, a cattail root- all greedily accepted. Also, a locust that got too close was snapped up, even though the creature seemed to be mostly full by that point. It just ate everything, then? 

Maybe he ought to keep whatever this was with him so it didn’t get up to any trouble. That would give him more time to figure out what it was, for one thing. 

And it seemed quite content to follow him around as soon as it was up and about. He fed it at least once a day, offered it the carcasses of any un-contaminated beasts he slew, pointed it towards water, and that was it. 

Then he found a goblin. The damn thing led him through three packs of goat-men before he managed to shoot it enough times to kill it, and it left gold strewn everywhere. 

Dalu fully expected to not get that gold back when he saw the thing gathering it up, but he didn’t pay it much attention. It was just after the strewn gold trail, not the bulk of the coins and the pieces of armor that Dalu actually needed. 

To his surprise, though, the thing ran back and forth between him and the trail, dumping the gold it had gathered into his pack every time it came back. 

The next time he ended up with gold scattered about, this time from a series of shattered urns, it did the same thing. Then the next, and the next, always bringing him every single piece, and starting to watch more alertly for gold once it figured out that he approved. 

Eventually, it kept a large gold earring, which it fit through the hole between its nostrils. Later, it found and kept a simple crown, then a large spear. 

By that point, it had grown, and it was chest-height to him. It was also much more durable, seeming to take no injury from most attacks, and fast enough to flee from anything that posed any real danger. All of which would have been alarming, except that it kept bringing him gold, it stashed a brush in his pack to groom itself with, and it grumbled to itself and slept on top of him when they had to stay somewhere cold. 

Weird cow he’d never identified or not, he was rather fond of the thing. Even if it did occasionally yell at villagers. 

This is based off of a necromancer I play in Diablo 3, Dinnau, and the Templar who accompanies him. No knowledge of Diablo 3 is needed, except that the heroes, like in most video games, don’t tend to stay dead. Also, Dinnau has literally saved the world several times. 

No significant warnings, just awkwardness, a small amount of sexual tensoin, and mentions of someone temporarily drowning. 

Kormac was quite certain that it was never a good thing when
the medics couldn’t agree on if someone had died. Granted, it might not have
mattered here as much as other places, since Dinnau had a habit of not staying
dead either way, but still. Spending any amount of time submerged in a frozen
lake was bad, but being dragged into said lake by one leg and spending an
unknown amount of time at the bottom, tangled in animated (and angry) seaweed,
was especially unfortunate.

But Dinnau still wouldn’t
stay in the medical area. Something about wanting to recover in a quieter
place. Which Kormac understood, but when medics told you to stay somewhere, it
was usually a good plan to stay somewhere. The medics were too busy to deal
with someone who was trying to leave and only might need  assistance later,
though, so Kormac was on what had been termed “drag the stupid idiot back if he
starts choking” duty.

Dinnau, fortunately, was not choking. Just sitting as close
as possible to the fireplace, wrapped up in a blanket, glaring at the flames.
And still, still shaking. Really not
a surprise; Dinnau seemed to get cold easily, and his skin had been ice-cold
when Kormac had managed to get him back out of the water. He was probably still
cold, even if he was warm enough to be alive.

So… maybe Kormac should try to get him warmed up a bit more?
And not in the way that certain
people would suggest, just- another blanket? Or- hm, no, they’d already given
him some hot soup, he probably didn’t want more.

Given that, what could Kormac do?

Deciding to try and figure it out from a bit closer, he
carefully approached Dinnau from the side, trying to be fairly loud so he
wouldn’t startle his companion. Startling a necromancer in a bad mood was a
good way to end up with bones, yours or otherwise, somewhere you did not want
them.

Once he was close enough, he sat down next to Dinnau, slowly
reaching to set a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Dinnau- are you well?”

Wait, no, stupid question, and he realized it, but-

Well, he got a bit distracted. He’d accidentally nudged the
blanket off of Dinnau’s shoulder, and that revealed some rather interesting
scars. And the fact that Kormac had managed to put his thumb into the hollow of
Dinnau’s collarbone. “Ah- oh, by the Heavens, you are cold. Is there- may I assist?”

“Am I cold? I hadn’t noticed.” Dinnau muttered dryly, but
didn’t pull away from the touch. In fact, he leaned into it slightly, seeking
the warmth. Kormac was large and hefty and pleasantly warm, and that… that had
Dinnau’s attention.

Gaze flickering up to Kormac’s face, Dinnau sized the
Templar up for several long moments, then backed up and gestured to the place
where he’d been sitting. He was on top of a thickly padded bearskin rug to keep
the chill of the stone floor away, so he fully intended to stay here in front
of the fire, and… maybe he could add Kormac to his anti-cold measures. “You may
absolutely exist. Come here- get comfortable. And… take your shirt off.”

…what?

Oh, of course, that made sense, it would be easier to
transfer heat without clothing in the way, but-

…wait. Dinnau was clearly not wearing a shirt, and-

Well, Kormac knew for a fact that the necromancer been
completely naked for some amount of time in the medbay, as his clothing had
been both soaked wet and frozen almost solid, but he didn’t know if Dinnau had
ever… actually put anything, other than that blanket, back on.

Was he about to end up with Dinnau in his lap, naked?

And how much did he object to that idea?

Not anywhere near as much as he should, oh goodness.

But Dinnau was still shivering, and Kormac had offered, and-

Oh goodness.

Hoping he didn’t look as flustered as he felt, Kormac
removed his shirt and sat in the suggested spot, hands wrapping tightly into
the fur of the rug in an effort to keep them from wandering into, well-

Dinnau had some very interesting scars, from wounds that had
been too deep or had waited too long for a healer to fully repair, and he
somehow managed to make deathly pale skin look good, aaand-

Okay, so, yes, Dinnau was at least wearing undershorts, and
Kormac felt rather like kicking himself for his sudden desire to have things not that way, but-

Dinnau stood up to stretch, the blanket falling away slightly,
and made a face at the cold air before he was distracted by Kormac’s
expression. Said expression was somewhere between surprise and want, and it was actually rather cute,
but a bit surprising in this context.

Surprise notwithstanding, Kormac didn’t look uncomfortable,
so Dinnau shrugged off the blanket and sat in Kormac’s lap. As soon as he was
in place, he pulled the blanket up around himself again, leaning back and
stifling a moan at the sensation of
warm skin against his entire back. Oh, that was divine. Why hadn’t he done this before? He and Kormac had spent
enough time dragging each other out of battle and patching each other up, they
could certainly manage this much cont-

Did he still have
that stunned expression? And- all right, Kormac was far too stiff, this was not
okay. “Kormac, you’ve seen me shirtless before, and we are comfortable with
each other.

Please try to relax. You are quite welcome to put your hands
somewhere other than the floor, and-“

Pausing, he twisted around to meet
Kormac’s eyes, his voice soft and serious. “If you want me to leave, tell me. I
am not here to make you uncomfortable, and I am not going to die if you are not
comfortable with me in your lap. You are not obliged to let me touch you. So-
do I need to move?”

“You’re… usually… rather covered
in blood when- when you aren’t wearing a shirt.” Kormac managed, then
immediately raised his hands at the question and hesitated for an instant
before settling them on Dinnau’s forearms. “No! I-I am not- not uncomfortable,
merely- you are worryingly cold.”

And it was true! Dinnau was still
shivering and far too cold, and his entire back against Kormac’s front was
slightly less than pleasant. And it was, uh. Kormac’s nipples had noticed the
cold, so… hopefully Dinnau didn’t notice that. Ahem.

Awkwardness aside, though, Dinnau
was relaxing against him. And it was… oddly pleasant.

After a moment more, Kormac slid
both hands under the blanket, around Dinnau without trapping his arms, and
hugged the shivering necromancer closer to his chest. Muttering something about
efficiency, he tried his best to behave himself, but ended up slowly tracing
along a scar that had ended up under his fingertips. An odd curving pattern,
tiny deviations to either side, like whatever caused it had been rattling
rapidly back and forth. Which was… this was OK to inspect, right? He just…
happened to have his hand on top of it, and it was just a scar on Dinnau’s
side, nothing… nothing too… anything.

Even if Dinnau had made a sound when he felt Kormac’s arms around
him. That was just- just because he was a bit less cold now. Probably. Right?

“Is, uh… is this acceptable? You
are still quite cold.”

Dinnau shuddered and slowly
pressed further back against Kormac, doing his level best to melt into the very warm Templar, and once again barely
managed to not moan. Kormac was unfairly warm,
nice and solid, and was holding him- and
there was something just delightful about being held close like this. He should
have done this a long time ago, and they were definitely doing this again. “Ah… there we are. Thank you, Kormac,
this is… oh. Much better. And-“

A quick pause, rolling one
shoulder back in a rather pointed manner, and he chuckled very softly to
himself. “Yes, I did notice the cold.”

At the inevitable sputtering that
ensued, Dinnau sighed and patted Kormac’s hand, huddling a bit further down
into the blankets and Templar that were serving as a nest. “Kormac, I am not
afraid of your nipples. You do not need to apologize, I do know a few things about anatomy.”

Akgh.

Having no idea what to say to
that, Kormac elected to say nothing at all, biting his lip and going silent
after he was done sputtering. Still holding Dinnau close, he thought for a few
long moments, hands cupped against Dinnau’s stomach… and noticed something.

That strange, oddly pleasant
mage-woman was right. Dinnau was skinny, more
so than he had been when Kormac had met him. Probably needed to eat more. No-
definitely needed to eat more. Was going to be hard to convince him to, though,
unless-

Wait.

Kormac reluctantly took his arms
from around Dinnau’s frame, wrapping the blanket tightly around the lanky man
instead, and squirmed away with an apologetic sound. “My apologies, Dinnau-
give me a moment, please? I-I have- stay, I have an idea- sit.”

Dinnau whined up at him, actually whined,
as Kormac moved, and something in the Templar’s chest tightened unpleasantly at the sound, but he kept
going- got up and left the room, moving almost at a run so he didn’t have any
time to give in to the urge to immediately go back. He didn’t want to move- he
wanted to stay and help Dinnau get warmed up, but he had to grab something
first, this- this was important.

When he came back, he was
carrying a bowl of stew in one hand and a small, cloth-wrapped bag of sand in
the other. “Apologies, but- you need to eat, and you need to warm up, and-
these will help with both. Here-“

Dinnau had been startled by the
sudden movement and very unhappy with
the sudden influx of cold air and the loss of heat and contact. Not even a warning, just cold stone re-chilling his ass
through his undershorts. Rude, abrupt, cold- all his least favorite things.

By the time Kormac got back,
Dinnau was sitting hunched into a ball of blankets and anger, Glaring up at
Kormac, he did his very best to project his extreme dissatisfaction with the
situation, resisting the urge to immediately climb back into the Templar’s lap.
That was kind of an embarrassing urge, no matter how much he wanted it. Kormac…
was apologizing, though, and had…
brought him things.

Maybe he… would get a bit closer.

“Someone is heating sand in an
iron pot and pouring it into these bags- it stays very warm. Take this, and
then- this is a very good venison stew. You are-“

Kormac hesitated for an instant,
taken aback by his own tone, then squared his shoulders and drew himself up.
“If you want- want me to keep helping you warm up, you are going to eat this.
Or at least some of it. I know you’re
only half human, but you need to eat at least
half of the time, and you don’t. So- eat!”

Holding his breath slightly and
hoping that he hadn’t upset Dinnau, Kormac thrust the bowl towards him, waiting
to see what sort of reaction he would-

Oh.

Dinnau briefly considered
protesting that he didn’t often because he wasn’t hungry often, but halfway
through the threat he was ready to give in. Fine. Pride or not, he was cold,
and… eating what smelled like a very good stew was not enough of a price to
deter him from- well, anything. Especially not something nice like this.

But the rest of it… heh. There
was that confidence- good for Kormac. Dinnau smirked just slightly, then
shrugged and climbed into Kormac’s lap again, wanting the warmth back. “Yes,
sir.”

Oh- that got a response. A rather
startled look, then a vaguely more confident expression as Kormac settled him
more firmly into place and held him close. Cute. How a man heavier than him was
‘cute’, Dinnau had no idea, but… heh. It worked.

Now… awkward sputtering aside,
there was a warm object and a bowl of stew to enjoy. Taking the liberty of
shifting until he was comfortable again, Dinnau set the bag of sand under his
(still icy) feet, then sighed and stared down at the bowl in a short attempt to
summon an appetite. Nothing. And he hadn’t eaten in… quite awhile, probably
days, so he should… probably be hungry. Had been hungry, before, when he hadn’t
been using his power this much… maybe this was a consequence.

Did he need to eat at all, then?
Hm- probably sometimes, he’d needed to tighten his belt a few times before,
but…

Oh, fine. It wouldn’t hurt him to
eat something, and this did smell nice. Nor could he bring himself to mind the
order- it was out of concern for him, not a feeling of entitlement to his time
or cooperation.

Kormac stayed fairly stiff at first,
uncertain if he’d crossed a line somewhere by giving orders, but relaxed as
Dinnau complied. No, it didn’t seem like Dinnau was angry. Or… anything but
relaxed, actually, he was eating. Slowly, but that seemed to be the usual.
Dinnau never ate quickly, seeming to prefer leisurely, small meals over faster,
filling ones if they were low on time. Odd, but it made some amount of sense in
context.

This time, though? This time, Dinnau
was going to eat this entire bowl of stew, at least if Kormac had anything to
say about it, and Kormac had several things to say about it.

It didn’t end up being difficult to
get Dinnau to eat, though. Which was fortunate. Kormac probably wouldn’t have been
able to muster the gumption to put considerable effort into something so far
above his station as ordering around the
man who had saved all of existence several times over. Giving orders to
anyone felt strange, and Dinnau… Dinnau should have been in charge of things.
He certainly shouldn’t have been… calling Kormac “sir”. And Kormac should not have been enjoying that little word
as much as he was.

But he managed not to make a big
deal of it- or any deal, really, he didn’t respond in any way. Not on purpose,
at least.

And that was just how it went.

Dinnau gradually finished off the
stew, then set the bowl aside and snuggled back into Kormac’s frame, drowsy and
finally starting to warm up properly. Sighing softly, he turned to the side and
hummed gently to Kormac, shifting around until he was comfortable. But… this
wouldn’t be for Kormac, not for long.

“Kormac, this is very comfortable,
but… I am going to fall asleep very soon. You should… probably lie down. Get
comfortable. That is an order… I am not about to let you make yourself
uncomfortable on my behalf.”

“Understood,” Kormac whispered,
moving carefully so as not to dump Dinnau out of his lap, and got comfortable
on the rug in front of the fireplace. It could have been very awkward to lie
with another person like this, but
Dinnau looked half-asleep, and Kormac wasn’t about to do anything that would
potentially get him woken up. He was just going to play along with whatever
Dinnau wanted so that the necromancer would sleep
properly for once.

And because… because it was very
nice, once he pulled the blankets up over them both.

Dinnau muttered something indistinct
and thankful, nuzzling into Kormac’s chest without any hint of shame, and
pressed as close as he could get. Humming gently, he put an arm over the
Templar’s frame, thoroughly enjoying the warmth and more than enjoying the fact
that Kormac was actually relaxing against
him. That was good- some contact would probably be good for Kormac.

Well. Kormac was now lying in front
of a fireplace, shirtless, covered in blankets, with a man in his undershorts pressing against him. This was… wow. Okay. Far,
far too nice, bordering on sinful if
not for how much good it was doing Dinnau. Because, importantly, Dinnau was warm, had just eaten, and was falling
asleep.

Perfect.

He fell asleep like that, holding
Dinnau close, and it was amazing.

 

Waking up like that was also amazing.
And warm.

Too
warm in one particular place, though. Silently cursing and trying to figure
out how to get away well enough to not disrupt Dinnau, Kormac slowly started to
move away, then stilled when Dinnau clung tighter. Okay, that- that was an
issue, because he needed to get away and do something about this, but Dinnau
really didn’t want him to-

Dinnau cracked open one eye, but
didn’t bother to take his face out of Kormac’s chest, just spoke loudly enough
to be heard. “Kormac, stop… I am not afraid of your dick.”

More sputtering. Cute. Dinnau
smirked against Kormac’s chest, then exhaled deeply and drifted off again, not
having fully woken up in the first place. He’d just… sleep. And enjoy the
warmth.

Wasn’t like offering to help Kormac
with that little ‘problem’ would get a positive reaction. Otherwise he might
have stayed awake. But… no. Maybe some time later.

Hopefully some time later.

Further data on Tempo

Tempo has data-cables, a bit like Soundwave’s. His are proportionally a lot smaller, though. He has six, three per side, and they’re really narrow and only about as long as he is tall.

They’re this soft white with bands of gold bio-lights, really bright to look at, and the rest of his paintjob used to be a lot flashier to match. They retract into protective pouches that have armor and an airtight gasket sealing the pouches shut, as it’s important that they be kept spotlessly clean. 

The tips are covered in protective silicone sheaths that can retract, and the tips split into a fairly large number of extremely thin (by Cybertronian standards) tendrils, which can be twisted together to approximate the shape of any plug he’s compatible with.

He’s a data-mech, and his cables are linked to his processor through what’s essentially an onboard computer, which stores information and memory related to whatever he’s plugged into. It’s directly hooked to his processor, but isn’t legally or medically considered part of his processor. 

Before the war, he was something termed a “data-bird”. Flashy little mech, easy to plug into with no emotional entanglement, ideal for spying and gathering information. His job was to spy on other nobles for his employer (read: owner), regularly come back and sit still for them to plug into his onboard computer and get all the data (read: blackmail), and sometimes sit on someone’s shoulder and look pretty.

During the war, he and his kind became something like messenger pigeons. The first order of business was to paint them in something more respectable- Cybertronian camo, designed to blend them into buildings and let them go unnoticed. This, Tempo liked, because he stopped looking like a decoration//pet. 

The rest of the job, he did not like as much. 

Messengers would generally have part of their onboard computer memory locked off, and encrypted data that was too high-profile to be safely transmitted would be put into this part of their memory, which would only be accessible to those with the right codes. They would then be sent off to fly to another location and take the data with them, and, as they wouldn’t even know what it was they were carrying, there was no point in worrying that they’d give away the info.

Of course, if they got caught, they were just about screwed. They’d end up with their onboard computer being hacked (less traumatic than hacking into someone’s processor, but still unpleasant and potentially damaging) for the data, and, being messengers, would probably not have anyone coming to rescue them. A lot of them defected to the non-Functionalists very early on. A startling (to the higher-ups) number defected after being captured and willingly gave over the information they’d been carrying. 

Tempo was a messenger pigeon for awhile, and managed not to get caught. 

Well. 

Caught by Cybertronians.

He ended up being trapped by some opportunistic (and non-Cybertronian) slave hunters, who were looking for small and harmless-seeming beings to sell off, and he was sold to nobles on another planet who had some idea of what his frametype had been used for. They thought they could get him to sit on a perch and look pretty, like some strange exotic bird. After all- a trapped, compliant member of such a nightmarish species was an excellent status symbol, and Tempo was small enough that he didn’t look like a threat.

Tempo did not like being kept as a pet, he did not like wearing a collar, he did not like the muzzle and audial covers that got locked onto him if he got sassy (which was often), and he did not like the utter lack of respect. He also didn’t like being dipped in far-too-strong paint remover on arrival (killed off all his paint nanites and burned most of the sensors in his wings and antennae away) and regularly re-painted with gaudy alien paint colors. 

So Tempo proceeded to spend several decades gathering any possible bit of information that he could on the (startlingly corrupt) nobles, broadcast that information when the time was ripe, and bring an entire planet’s social structure crumbling to its knees.

He then escaped among the chaos. 

Which left him heading back to a now-ruined Cybertron in an alien ship barely large enough for him, with a muzzle and audial covers latched onto his helm, his plating mostly bare after he scraped away the offending paint and gilt, and with a serious case of tiny-pissed-off-distrustful-and-severely-touch-starved-mechitis. 

Somebody come respect this boi. 

(yes, the respect can involve creative uses of the data-cables, if you’re nice enough about it)

(I do have a RP going where things are, so far, working out fine for him. He freaked out a bit on arrival, as he was greeted by Soundwave, the bane of his kind, but as of writing this he is cuddling said scary mech in Soundwave’s berth. Long story. Very touch-starved minibot who needs to be around more people with EM fields.)

Thanks to an impulsive action, a wrestling match turns into some experimentation in kinks. 

(Alzu and Almul playing around. Spanking is involved. Very slight warning for Alzu being too excited to stop and properly discuss consent and how subspace works before diving headfirst into an aspect of dom/sub play, he probably shouldn’t have done that. Nothing bad happens, though.)

“Hey Almul- gonna getcha!”

Almul had been expecting this sort of thing from the bouncy
way Alzu was acting, and they weren’t caught off guard as he pounced at them.
Skreeking pretend-anger, they wrapped their arms tightly around him and ‘kicked’
with both legs, pushing up against his stomach, then bucked and managed to get
halfway flipped over.

Alzu lunged at their face, mouth open as wide as it would
go, eyes wide and playful, and Almul cut them off by grabbing at their mouth.
Metal hands meant they could grab Alzu’s upper and lower jaws in different
hands with no worry of the teeth, using it to twist his head to the side and
try to get on top of him, which semi-worked. Alzu was wiggly, and not quite
trying his hardest, but definitely still being feisty.

Several minutes of flailing and wrestling and assorted
sounds of amused effort later,  Almul was
sitting on Alzu’s back, just about hit in the face by his tail every time it
wagged. Alzu was pinned on his front, rump in the air, tail wagging furiously,
pawing at the ground but not really able to get away. Partly because he wasn’t
using his full strength, partly because Alzu was at a bit of a disadvantage
against a partner who he couldn’t bite and didn’t want to hurt or upset.

They’d got him- but he was still wiggling. Time to make him
be still and further establish their victory. Clamping their legs tighter
around Alzu’s sides, Almul growled lightly and dug their claws carefully into
his thighs, pretending to be exasperated at him refusing to submit-

Then acted on impulse and gave Alzu’s rump a quick spank.

Alzu froze, tail stilling for an instant, giving a startled
little yelp, and glanced back over his shoulder at Almul before his tail
started to wag again. This time, instead of the broad, sweeping wags from
before, it was a quick up-and-down motion- a gesture of interest. Arousal. And
a very blatant one to Almul, given that it was very close to their face.

Wriggling in a way that emphasized the sway of his hips,
Alzu grinned over his shoulder at Almul, arching his back in an attempt to get
loose. “What… d’you wanna play like that? Go on- I can take it!” he challenged,
then blinked, tilted his head, and grinned.  Might as well try. “What- y’wann’ do a diff’rent
sorta play? C’mon- bet’cha can’t make me be still. Ain’t got me that easy.”

Almul, midway through cheeping a sheepish apology for their
impulsive action, stared down at Alzu for several seconds in sheer
bewilderment. Alzu… wanted to…

Right. People liked weird things for sex, and Alzu liked a lot of weird things. And-

Almul slipped a hand down under Alzu, palming lightly at his
crotch, and clicked in mild amusement at what they found. Yep- turned on
already. Couldn’t be from just the one
spank, too quick, so- the whole wrestling match? All right- sure. That was…
actually kind of flattering, even if it was
“could probably be turned on by a stiff breeze” Alzu.

So… Alzu was turned on by this situation, was still wiggling
and refusing to behave, and was apparently open to… well. To Almul trying to
spank him into cooperation.

Why not?

Almul’s leg-clamp had loosened out of confusion, but they
clamped down again, pretend-growling, and spanked Alzu again. Not hard, they
didn’t want to hurt him, but enough
to… probably be a good strong feeling?

“Ah yeah-“ Alzu muttered, entirely ruining the illusion of
him trying to get away, and paused his squirming for just an instant before
resuming –and redoubling- his efforts. He was gonna get awayyy unless Almul
convinced him otherwise by-

Ooh-

 

That wasn’t enough, then? All right. Challenge accepted.

Rumbling excitement in the back of their throat, Almul undid
the buckle above Alzu’s tail and pulled his shorts down just enough to expose
his haunches, then roughly gripped the newly exposed hide and glanced down at-

At Alzu, who was now biting their foot.

Tail waving much faster in anticipation, Alzu growled and squirmed, biting semi-gently at Almul’s
leg as he tried to struggle free. He was clearly turned on, though- eyes wide
and gleaming, ears up, tail wagging hard, drooling against Almul’s plating as
he bit. Oh, yes- Almul was catching on fast.

Naughty.

Almul growled warningly, then brought their palm against
Alzu’s rump, a bit harder than before, and repeated the action several more
times until Alzu whined and let go of their leg. Two more swats, and Alzu whined
again and lapped appeasingly at the bitten spot, looking very contrite. There-
a bit better.

Purring softly, Almul gently stroked the spot they’d been
spanking, starting to drift their hands inwards-

And Alzu immediately started squirming again, though without
biting.

Almul clamped their plating in mock-anger, then firmly
grabbed Alzu’s tail in one hand to keep it out of the way as they applied their
palm to a slightly different spot. Alzu had some padding from his fur, so it
wasn’t very loud, but they evidently had a good strength down- because Alzu was
slowing his struggles a bit, but his tail was wagging harder in Almul’s hand.
Evidently this was good.

Quickly enough, Almul figured out a system. If Alzu started
squirming harder, he got harder spanks, going back over the same spots. If he
relaxed, made those appeasing sounds, and stopped moving, he got light, gentle
strokes to his rump, and Almul’s hands strayed in towards his entrance or down
towards his cock. And Almul was learning to feel the tension in Alzu’s frame, predict
what he was about to do, so-

Almul felt Alzu tense up in preparation for more struggles
and cut it off with one quick, sharp swat, and that seemed to do the trick.

Okay. Yeah, that… oh, he was done.

Alzu whimpered softly, a quiet, appeasing sound, and went
completely limp. Whining hopefully, he blinked up at Almul and crooned, hands
relaxing, no longer squirming in the slightest. That had been enough
excitement, enough play-punishment… he was done with that. Now- touches?
Please? More? Because he was very turned
on, and entirely too much of his clothing was still present, and really all he
wanted was to be touched and stroked-

Oh, should he have better explained himself before getting
into-

Eh, no time to worry about that, he was out of words. Rather
just whine and be hopeful.

Almul tried to wait until they were certain Alzu was done,
but, oh, those sounds. Soft,
tentative whines, hopeful noises, pleading- awh.

Crooning in approval, Almul stroked down the backs of Alzu’s
thighs, trying to soothe away the sting. Okay, yes, he was being good now. The
swing in mood was a bit abrupt, but- this worked, yes, so they could just- just
pet now, and- yep.

There was rather an impressive damp spot in the front of
Alzu’s shorts as Almul pulled them off, and a quick stroke of his shaft
confirmed that, unsurprisingly, it was slick and just about dripping.

Now, what was Almul going to do next? They still didn’t
really like the texture here, but it seemed rather mean to just make Alzu
handle his own arousal after winding him up like this, so… hopefully there was
something in Alzu’s pack to use. Well- there was probably something in Alzu’s pack to use.

Sliding off of Alzu’s back, Almul grabbed one of his hands
out of the scuffed-up leaf litter and coaxed him down until his hand was on his
cock, paused for an instant, then tugged it back until- ah, he’d got the
message, and Almul growled in approval as they moved to get into the pack.

Almul was no longer trapping him, but he was done trying to
escape anyway, and Alzu only moved to splay his legs further as he waited.
Well- that, and slicking up his fingertips against his cock before moving to
start working himself open. Presumably Almul had something in mind here.
Hopefully it involved something in him.

When Almul came back, they prodded lightly at Alzu’s tail
until he curled it up out of the way, then lowered their hand to stroke
something over his cock. They’d gotten out a smallish glass plug with a wide
base, ridged just slightly to help keep the lube on it, and rubbing it against
Alzu’s shaft-tip was an easier way to slick it up than trying to find the
bottle of lube. Same stuff, anyway.

Once the toy was slick enough, Almul gently pressed it to
Alzu’s entrance, paused to look over at his excited expression, then slowly started
to press it inside. Crooning in approval, they skittered a hand up his back and
stroked down his spine, trying to soothe as they worked the toy into place. Not
that Alzu needed soothing, he was happily pushing back into the toy, but-

Hm, actually, too fast. Alzu knew his limits, yes, but Almul
wanted to take their time. Just in case. So-

In their other hand was a soft cloth, and they wrapped both
the cloth and their hand around the base of his cock, gripping firmly below the
knot and giving a slight tug to keep him from leaning back. That earned a
startled noise, and it worked- Alzu stopped moving away, pouting slightly but forced
to be still and let Almul rock the toy in at a torturously slow pace.

As soon as Almul got the toy in and let go of his cock, Alzu
crooned softly and rolled over, splayed on his back and offering himself up.
Pawing gently at the air, he whined hopefully and grasped at empty space in
Almul’s direction, hoping to lure him down to- yesss.

Aw, okay.

Giving in to the wordless plea, Almul stretched out next to
Alzu and pressed their weight gently on top of him, keeping the cloth around
his shaft but sliding it up a bit. This was probably the best way to go about
playing with Alzu’s cock, much better for the both of them than Almul’s metal
hand directly on sensitive skin. A cloth soaked in lube was probably a nice
texture, right?

Oh, it was absolutely a good texture, at least in Alzu’s
opinion.

After a bit of squirming, Alzu had both arms wrapped around
Almul, one hindleg kicking at the air and the other trapped under Almul’s
frame. Drooling happily and licking at Almul’s throat, he whimpered and kicked and
bucked up into the grip on his cock, not really struggling so much as working
against Almul’s frame until-

Well, Alzu wasn’t bothering with trying for stamina. Grip
tightening, he bucked up into Almul and held the arched pose as he came, then
slowly relaxed again and panted softly. Ah, nice.

And then, of course, grabbed at Almul with all four limbs
and tried to melt into him.

Almul crooned approval and nuzzled into Alzu’s throat, then
sprawled on top of him completely in order to reach and pet at all the good
spots. It seemed like it might be important now to do this, so… petting,
fur-combing, and the most praise they could manage without a voice. Yes, good-
good Alzu.

Oof.

Good Alzu with a very tight hug. But, yes- good. And
apparently fully intending to hug Almul for quite awhile, so… yes. Warm,
comfortable, nice- no problems at all. Might have to clean up at some point,
but… good.

This wasn’t how wrestling matches usually turned out, was
it?

Alzu gets drunk. And chatty. No warnings for anything other than drunkenness and Alzu being slightly lewd. 

“Yer tasty.”

Almul was reasonably certain that they were, in fact, not
tasty. Alzu’s approval was probably at least mostly due to the fact that he was
drunk. Very drunk, evidently, and gnawing lightly on Almul’s helm. Which was
confusing, and kind of hot and damp, but not really objectionable. Almost cute,
actually, and-

Almul squeaked lightly as Alzu licked at their face, then
sighed and leaned away slightly, staring up at their lap full of Lyca. Okay,
definitely cute. But- maybe not good for public? Almul hadn’t seen Alzu drunk
before, they weren’t certain if he was going to get loud or otherwise
troublesome, so it was probably a good plan to leave. Good thing Alzu was
already all gathered up- all that Almul had to do was wrap their arms more
securely around him, supporting his butt (which was made difficult by that
rapidly wagging tail) and holding his lithe frame close so he couldn’t fall
off. Alzu was obliging enough, content to lean his head over Almul’s shoulder
and nibble on various parts of his back, so all Almul had to do was start
walking. The benefits of having paid for one’s alcohol in advance.

Once outside the bar, Almul shifted Alzu up a bit higher,
slinging him over one shoulder for easier carrying, and warbled in complaint
when Alzu started to gnaw on their cape. Not that it hurt, they just didn’t
like the tugging sensation very much, and they could do without drool inside
the material. Or drool anywhere, but at least on the outside of them it was
easy to clean off.

Alzu gnawed lightly at various parts of Almul for most of
the walk, chewing on their shoulder for the most part, and occasionally paused
the chewing to aim a saucy grin at anyone who caught his attention. Also things
like “hey, gorgeous, you’n’me’n that hot stuff next t’ ya” now and then, most
of which was ignored. Someone did take
the opportunity to smack Alzu’s rear as they walked by, but Almul recognized
them as someone Alzu had played with before, so they just chirped in response.
That wasn’t a threat- not with someone who knew that Alzu enjoyed that sort of
thing. Which he clearly did, as his response to the smack was an even wider
grin and a short bark.

Almul didn’t stop for interactions, though, they wanted to
get to someplace quiet. Just in case Alzu got feisty in one way or another.
Because- what was Alzu going to do? Flirt with everyone more thoroughly and
then seduce someone into bed? Alzu didn’t like when drunk people were being hit
on, and Almul had some understanding of why, so… probably shouldn’t let Alzu
hit on people further than comments. And, hm- drunk people lost their
inhibitions, right? What if Alzu decided to start grinding on Almul? Because
Almul wouldn’t really mind that, in fact it would probably be enjoyable, but it
didn’t seem appropriate for anywhere in public.

Once they were in private, that changed. A quiet patch of woodland,
out of easy earshot of everyone- this would work. Chirruping softly, Almul set
Alzu down and sat down next to him, waiting to see what would happen- and was
immediately pounced on again.

Yep, they’d expected this. All right, fine by them, might be
interest-

No grinding? Also interesting, though a different kind. What
was Alzu up to, then, if not-

Puzzled, Almul wriggled until they got comfortable on their
back, chirping occasionally in gentle protest if Alzu stepped too hard on any
particular spot. So… what was he up to?

Alzu shifted around for a minute or two, trying to get
comfortable, then flopped gently against Almul’s side and propped himself up
enough to grin down at the other. “Yer cute. Real cute, know that? Lookit-
cutie. Cutie li’l. Yeeeah- cute. Lemme nuzz’l.” he muttered, then attempted to
nuzzle at Almul’s face. Since Almul had more empty space than face at the
moment, it didn’t do much- he just ended up with part of his face inside Almul’s
helm, which earned a pouty whine and a sulky expression. Which was rather hard
for Almul to see until they pushed Alzu’s face away.

Cute?

Almul murred softly, intrigued, but dismissed the comment.
Alzu was drunk, after all, and drunk people said silly things. And they really
had no complaints about their appearance, but they weren’t cute. You couldn’t be cute without a face. Also, they were made of metal and fire, so… not cute, no.

Then again, Alzu had called a dragon cute, so… his standards
were different. All the same, Almul shook their helm slightly and chuckled, a
visible signal of their dismissal. Nope.

“Yeeeah. Cute cute. An’ yer a smart- learnin’ stuff all
good. An’ a strong, yeah- an’ real brave. If I were you, I’d’a wann’ move t’
where there ain’t any humans ever. You? Yer walkin’ ‘roun’ wi’ all th’ humans.
Real good, yeah- brave. A good’n.” Alzu purred, tail waving, and kneaded his
hands firmly on Almul’s frame as he snuggled into the other’s shoulder. “Yeah…
warm. Good’n. Good, good.”

Doing his level best to hug Almul despite them being on the
floor, Alzu squirmed happily and pushed his face into Almul’s frame, gradually
settling against them until he could get comfortable lying still. “How of’n’m I
gonn’ have t’ say tha’? I wan’ y’ t’ hear.”

Oh, well- they weren’t so sure about all that. The first
couple of points, maybe, but- brave? No, that was silly. They kept having nightmares, for goodness’ sake, had
still barely gotten over that happening often. Yeah, definitely drunk talk. It…
felt nice, though, even if… a lot of it might not really be true. Heh.

Okay, they could… they could enjoy this, as much as they
would get of it, right? No harm. Just… talk, that was all. Just… talk.

Alzu must have noticed their disbelief, though, because he
grumbled softly before bapping Almul lightly in the helm with one hand. “Hey.
Yer a good’n. Brave’n good. Shoosh’n, you. Shoosh. You a good. An’ I got no- no
words, bu’ you a good. Y’ hear’n?
Yeah.”

Clumsily attempting to gather Almul’s entire frame into his
arms, Alzu snuggled up close and purred, nuzzling into their throat as much as
he could with such a long snout. “Good’n. You’s a good, Almul. Yah. Good’n.
Lookit- I luv ya, hear? Yeah- luv ya. Sweet li’l. All cudd’l.”

…what? Yeah, okay, Alzu was- was very drunk, and-

And still talking, not giving Almul any time to think, to
dismiss anything-

“Good’n warm, a li’l sweet’n. I gotcha. Good’n, luv ya. An’
I- lookit, ah’m drunk. So you- you ‘mind me, an’ then ‘ll tell y’ again, yeah?”
Alzu murred, then opened his mouth and fit it lightly around Almul’s throat before
slowly moving up to grip their helm. Shaking his head slowly back and forth, he
rocked Almul’s helm in a gentle, affectionate, very drooly gesture, then
finally let go and settled again. “Good ‘un.”

Oh.

Almul’s hands skittered uncertainly across Alzu’s back, then
they wrapped their arms around him and hugged, tight, staring up at-

Okay, so he was drunk, but he sounded sincere. Looked it, too. Ears up, eyes wide, tail waving, not
giving any sign that he was lying or- or anything.

Goodness.

Alzu meant that. All of it.

What… what were they supposed to do with that?

Almul had… absolutely no idea. Less than no idea. So they
just… didn’t do anything, not really, other than staring at Alzu. For… probably
two minutes, at least, during which time he got comfy and started to doze off.

Eventually, Almul raised one hand and stroked down Alzu’s
head, then curled fully into him and snuggled into his throat. Chirping quiet
sounds, they stroked his back and sides, as much as they could reach, trying to
figure out the odd fluttering in their chest that was not coming from any part of them, then…

They couldn’t speak. Never had been able to, as far as they
knew. But… they could try some other things.

They didn’t know exactly where Alzu’s heart was, but they
put their hand firmly over what was probably about the right spot, squeezing
gently at the thick fur there, and crooned the most affectionate sound they
could manage with a throat made of metal shards.

I think I love you
too.

Almul has a nightmare, Alzu tries to help. 

Warning for a nightmare involving something that, though technically non-sexual, is probably best termed ‘rape’. 

Strong hands forcing
buckles apart despite their feeble efforts to struggle free, bare human skin
somehow not parting under their claws, muffled skreels for help going unheard
as the pool of Alzu’s blood started to soak into their back and stain their
cloak-

Clasps clamping down
painfully tight, fixing their plating around unpleasantly shifting limbs and
damp, wet skin, their last few scraps of mobility vanishing as a being far
stronger than them forced them to move-

Oh-so-familiar despair
and helplessness sinking in again as their vision started to fade out, as the
sounds around them dimmed, as their voice gave out, as their entire frame was
pressed around the body of the being who was controlling them, forcing them to move, their entire
world fading to nothing but the sensation of someone inside them-

Alzu was dead, and the
being who had killed them had caught Almul, wasn’t hurt by their claws, wasn’t
burned by their flame, was stronger than them and had them prisoner and they
couldn’t get away, and Almul’s last
coherent act was a silent scream of panic as their claws tried to clench on
nothing and failed-

 

“Almul, hey- hey, wake
up-“

 

Suddenly, the clammy heat inside them and the sticky, hot
puddle against their back vanished, replaced by coolness against their back and
a familiar, soft, comfortable warmth
sprawled across their front. Correction: sprawled across them, wrapped around
them, and licking their helm.

And somebody was screaming.

Oh. Their voice was back.

Bewildered, Almul trailed off and stared up at the
blackness, claws flexing on whatever they were hooked int- ah, no, that felt
like thick fur and skin, and this was Alzu,
alive and warm and now bleeding but
only thanks to them-

And the seemingly invincible human was gone. Just Alzu- hugging them and licking gently at their helm.

What… what had just-

“Ah, fuck- ah’m sorry, Almul. Figured you’d be sleepin’ f’
awhile, ran off t’ get some supplies- an’ then I come back an’ yer screamin’
yer li’l helm off. Shh-shh, ‘s okay- ‘s jus’ me. I gotcha. Ain’t hurtin’ ya.
Ain’t no one here, shush, I gotcha. Now, ah… take yer claws outta my
shoulders?” Alzu asked softly, letting his head rest gently on Almul’s
shoulder, and loosened his grip on them slightly. “Ain’t no good tryin’ t’ let
y’ sleep alone, huh? Easy, sh-“

Almul’s vision flickered back into existence, and they
chirped out a quick apology as they removed their claws from Alzu’s hide,
leaning up to see if he was- no, no, he wasn’t bleeding much, his fur had
gotten in the way, he was probably-

He was alive, Alzu
was alive, Almul was free, no one was hurting either of them-

Almul made a soft, rattling, sobbing noise, shaking all over, and buried their face in Alzu’s
shoulder. Pressing up against him, they rocked slowly, whining, arms tight around
Alzu’s frame, clinging with everything that they had to the one who kept them safe-

Safe from people, safe from the weather, from their own mind.

Quivering, Almul tried to curl into a ball with Alzu,
chattering softly as he obliged them and curled with them. Pushing into Alzu as
much as they could, they tried to rock into his frame, doing their absolute
best to just melt into him and into the ground.

“Yeah, there we go- shh. Ah, Hell- you’d be cryin’ now if ya
could, wouldn’ ya? Poor thing- heard ya screamin’ all th’ way back on th’ road,
an’ you got plenty t’ be screamin’ about. A’ight… tha’s it. No lettin’ you
sleep alone. M’kay- you keep clingin’, y’ rattle-cry all y’ want, I am gonn’
sit up an’ try out- look, I got polishin’ stuff. Lemme get you all shined up-
gonn’ make ya look pretty. Lemme know if any o’ this ain’t comfy.”

Alzu didn’t try to get loose of Almul’s grip, but he did
wiggle until he had the top half of himself free and could reach his bag.
“A’ight. I got good scrubby sand, a new scrubbin’ cloth, an’ some oil. Talked
t’ the local armorer, asked ‘er ‘bout magical armor, an’ she says this ain’t
gonn’ mess wi’ anything. Didn’ tell ‘er what kind of magical, don’ worry. I figure- we get you all shiny, you
prob’ly feel nice.”

Crooning softly, he started on a spot on Almul’s shoulder,
rubbing firmly with a cloth coated in the sand and oil. It easily cleared away
the assorted dirt, and, after a bit more work, it removed the thin outer layer
of dingy plating. Alzu had figured out at that point that Almul apparently
shed- as their outer plating began to tarnish, it would eventually be easy
enough to scrub loose, but the thickness of their plating never decreased.
Presumably they grew more somehow. That also explained why their lighter scars faded
away, why only the scars that went entirely through plating stayed over time.
Interesting, and helpful. Besides- as Alzu scrubbed away the ready-to-shed
bits, there was a soft sheen revealed underneath, and it looked nice. Hopefully
he could get Almul cleaned up enough to see that nice shine everywhere.

Soothed more than slightly by the pleasant scrubbing, Almul
gradually stilled, their shuddering easing away. Chirruping quietly, they
pushed their face into Alzu’s shoulder again, hugging close, and began to knead
softly at what they could reach of his back. Okay, maybe this could… could they
apologize? They’d dug their claws into Alzu, hurt him, and, oh- he was so good to them, he didn’t deserve that, he
deserved good things. And that- that was much nicer to think about than what
had just been happening, so they were just going to lay here, rub at Alzu’s
back, and try to decide what else to do.

By the time Alzu had finished scrubbing both their forearms,
they had a plan. Chirping quietly, they wriggled until they got free of him,
then immediately climbed up onto his back and straddled his hips, just above
his tail. A tail which immediately started to wag much harder, especially as
Alzu placed both hands between his shoulder blades.

Azu instinctively pushed up into the weight, propping
himself up on his elbows to look over his shoulder, then relaxed a bit and just
aimed a lazy grin up at Almul. “Hey- get yer rusty ass back down here, I gotta
finish cleanin’ you. Can’t reach ya if yer up ther- ooh. Ooh. Ah, m’kay, thiiis is not quite what I intended to- nnh, nope,
not complainin’. Yeah, that is nice.”

Slumping down against the ground, Alzu laid his head down
and just relaxed, eyes fluttering shut as the heels of Almul’s hands pressed
against the areas just below his shoulder blades. “Ah, yeah… mmh. Li’l bit in?
Yyyyeah. ‘S too bad you ain’t gotta dick, otherwise y’ could fuck me an’ do
that at th’ same time, an’ you know how much people like it when I do that t’ ‘em.
We gotta get y’ a fake cock, strap ‘er onta ya, an’ then we have some fun. Ooh- y’ wann’ try?”

Much calmer now, Almul massaged gently up and down Alzu’s
back, everywhere they could easily reach except the bleeding spots. They
thought about the suggestion for a moment, then shrugged and nodded, definitely
intrigued. What- that was something that could be done? They wouldn’t feel it, of course, but it would
probably be fun. Good noises from Alzu, probably.

And definitely a much more pleasant thing to consider than
some other thoughts that wanted out.

Hm. Come to think of it, Alzu distracting them with touch,
attention, and talk of sex was very in-character.

Nice.

They’d have to let him continue polishing them once they
were done rubbing his back. But first- this. See if he kept making pleasant
noises. Maybe see if this was the sort of contact that led to people becoming
aroused. Then again- Alzu might not be a good measure for what got people
turned on. A lot of things got Alzu turned on.

Though, apparently, not this. Maybe because his crotch was
pressed against the ground? Or maybe just the wrong sort of attention. Almul
could try to ask later, but, for now, rubbing.

And not thinking
about before.

Not right now.

Maybe eventually, but not right now.

Alzu and Almul inspect a corpse, Almul takes out some frustration on said corpse. Warning: messy. Descriptions of a corpse being messily taken apart and inspected. Also- it’s not technically cannibalism because they aren’t the same species, but Alzu is an opportunistic carnivore faced with a body made of meat. His response is unsurprising. 

“What- you wanna know why that works?”

Alzu kicked lightly at the corpse of someone who had
formerly been a rather nasty rapist, turning the body over to look down at the
severely burned face. “Yeah, actually- not a bad question. See- clearly dead,
but you only burned ‘is face. Got all choke-y, though. Bet he couldn’t breathe,
but- yeah, might as well, let’s figure ‘er out. Gonn’ make a mess o’ the guy
anyway, may as well learn.”

Hefting the corpse, Alzu tossed it over one shoulder and set
off, tail wagging slightly as he watched Almul following. Almul got an energy
boost from being near something that was dying, so they were now trotting
happily, almost seeming to whistle as thin lines of smoke wafted up from their
frame. If Alzu were to open Almul’s chest, their life-flame would be visible
and burning bright.

Once they were well away from the road, Alzu dropped the
corpse and pulled a large hunting knife from its spot alongside his pack,
crouching to inspect it. “A’ight- let’s see if I can open this wi’out makin’ a
mess.”

Almul sat down nearby and rested both hands on the ground,
watching intently as fragile human hide parted under the knife, and didn’t
bother trying to hide their satisfaction at the noise it made. Ugh- smooth
skin. They had nothing against humans, really, but the squishy things still had
such an awful texture. And, after so
long feeling that inside them, unable
to see properly or focus on anything else, there was something viscerally
satisfying about watching-

Wait, now… it didn’t have to just be watching. Rumbling
softly, Almul reached out with one hand and slowly dragged it down the man’s
leg, watching the cloth part, then repeated the motion- this time tearing
through skin. And he was right- it was satisfying.
So very, very satisfying. Enough that he repeated the motion, then again- with
both hands this time, clawtips sharp as possible, ripping pale skin to shreds.
Then further through skin, into and through muscle, shredding in further until
the still blood started to cake their hands-

“Woah, hey- Almul, you wanna mess ‘im up, I got no
complaints, bu’ you might be gettin’ kinda- hey now, easy, shh. Catharsis is
all well an’ good, jus’ no good makin’ yerself more upset while ya do it. Easy-
shift t’ th’ other leg now, gonn’ get blood all up in yer hands. Yeah? There we
go.” Alzu purred, pausing in his careful parting of the skin and muscle to
watch Almul for a moment. “Tha’s better.”

He had to crack the ribcage rather carefully to get to the
lungs intact, but it worked, though he had to pull a few large chunks of rib
out. And, of course, pop them into his mouth to chew on. “Now-“ *crunch* “-what
we have here arrrre- lookit, tha’s a heart, you know ‘bout them. Now, these’re
lungs. You also know ‘bout them, yeah? We got heart here- pushes blood ‘round.
Lungs, they get air in ‘em. People really need air in ‘em or they die, you
figured tha’ out. This, here- diaphragm. Real strong hunk o’ muscle. This-
pretty sure it pulls down an’ helps open th’ lungs. Ain’t no good for eatin’,
not bad fer jus’ chewin’ on. Anyway- lungs. They got air in ‘em. All th’  way up- that’s th’ windpipe. Gonn’ cut that
through, an’-“

A few deft cuts and nicks with his claws, and he lifted the
lungs out of the human’s chest, splaying them grotesquely across the relatively
intact stomach. The hunting knife, next- slicing down the windpipe, then into
and across one of the lungs. When he spread them open, thick burns were
revealed all down the windpipe and into the lungs, scorching them almost beyond
recognition. “Well. There’s yer problem.”

Pausing to point out the issue, Alzu aimed a tongue-lolling
grin at Almul, prodding at a particularly bad spot. “Lookit this mess, Almul-
that ain’t good! Okay, look- I dunno how lungs really work, but I doubt they can do it when they’re
all burnt up. Tha’s why ‘e’s dead. You gotta have lungs t’ be a workin’ human,
an’ they gotta work, an’ you made ‘is lungs not work. Nasty. But- mmph-“

Clearly he had to
see what those tasted like. And they fit in his mouth in two nice bites.

“-like a lotta nasty things, tasty.”

Almul had mostly been ignoring Alzu’s work in favor of
clawing up the corpse’s other leg, stripping long ribbons of skin free and
hissing in satisfaction with every long stroke, but they stopped to look the
organ over before Alzu, once again, ate their anatomy lesson. Chirping quietly,
they shook their head and flicked both hands, peeling loose the bits of gore,
and leaned over to look down at the exposed organs. Humans were complicated.
What did all this do, again? They only knew about the bits that could make
someone dead if you damaged them right. So, making the noise that they’d
established with Alzu as meaning “please explain”, they indicated something
that was in the “this will eventually kill someone but not right away” section,
wanting to know what some of those things did.

“Wha? Ah- let’s see. Okay. That, there, tha’s a liver. Real
tasty, lotsa meaty flavor. Not certain wha’ it does, bu’ I know people who
drink a lot got real messed-up ones, an’ there’s some diseases that’ll do it.
Makes people ge’ yellow eyes, an’ they get real sick when they got messed-up
livers, so I think it does somethin’ like blood-cleanin’? Now- this, in here,
dunno. Uh- tha’ thing? Tha’s a kidney. Lookit- you follow th’ string down, goes
t’ the bladder. Tha’s where piss stays. I figure kidneys’re wha’ make it. Dunno
why, sorry, y’d need a doctor. Uh- you punch someone in their back, o’r th’
kidneys, they start screamin’. Don’ taste good, either. Now- I am gonn’ eat
this liver.”

Alzu then proceeded to eat the liver, tail wagging
vigorously, before just driving both hands into the corpse’s innards and
ripping. Standard contract deal- make a horrific mess of someone’s innards,
hang them up as a warning, write whatever they did on something nearby.

In this case, a cliff.

Almul sat back and watched, fascinated as always by the way
flesh tore under proper force, and kneaded their claws in the leaf litter to
clean the worst of the blood away. As Alzu continued to work, they edged over
and grabbed the pack, pulling out a length of rope, and fastened it around the
corpse’s ankles. The knot was not neat, they were still learning how all that
worked, but it held well enough, and they had the end of the rope in their
hands as Alzu stood up.

“Yeah- there we go, yer learnin’ how ta make knots.” Alzu
declared, tail waving a bit harder, and hoisted the corpse in both hands so
that the end of the rope could be tossed over the branch. A quick pull and
another knot later, and the corpse was suspended from the tree by both ankles
and one arm- thoroughly undignified, plus it showed off all the damage. Alzu padded
over to the cliff nearby for just long enough to paint “RAPIST” in messy
letters across it, using the blood all over his hands, then shook himself and
scooped the pack up as he padded away. “Startin’ ta leak gut contents
everywhere. C’mon- let’s get a river.”

Churring in agreement, Almul followed Alzu and snagged a
cloth from the pack to clean their hands off, quiet and satisfied. Okay. That…
that had felt nice.

Maybe they could do this with the next target. It wasn’t as
if the average rapist deserved any respect, after all- might as well use them
for something helpful.

“I said-“

Bristling, Alzu stood up and stretched to his full height,
glowering down at the target of his ire. His easy, relaxed manner had vanished,
as had his accent, and he made certain to pronounce each word very carefully so
that there would be no hope of a “can’t understand you” blow-off.

“Do not touch them. They do not like that, they have made it
clear, and you will respect that.”

The source of the problem, an unpleasant male human who had
gotten far too grabby, visibly blanched at being told to back off by 7+ feet of
pissed-off Lyca. There were too many people watching for him to back off,
though, so he did his best to stretch enough to match Alzu. It failed entirely,
of course. “What do I care? It’s a damn suit of armor- supposed to be something
you wear,” he hissed, then reached
out with one hand, planting it firmly on Almul’s arm.

“Wrong answer,” Alzu snarled, and lunged- shoving the human
away and putting himself in front of Almul. Hunching his shoulders and lowering
his head, he opened his mouth and curled his lips in a snarl, displaying every
fang in his long, long jaws. As he spoke, he prowled closer to the human, fur
bristling in a thoroughly intimidating threat display.

“When I said respect
that, I meant fuck off.”

On the last word, he lunged, snapping his jaws shut so close
to the human’s face that his front teeth nicked skin.

That did it. The
blood drained entirely from the human’s face, except in the shallow scrapes
welling bright red, and he just about tripped over himself turning to run.

Alzu watched the human flee with no small amount of
satisfaction, then turned away from the rest of the bar, ignoring the stares
and mutters. “There we go. Got rid o’ ‘im. Y’okay, Al- ah, no, not okay? A’ight,
easy… I gotcha. C’mon- don’t smell so nice here anyway,” he muttered, pushing
his muzzle against the side of Almul’s helmet, and nuzzled softly until he got
Almul standing. “Easy- get on up. Gotta leave, an’ yer heavy. ‘Sides, I figure
you don’ wan’ me carryin’ ya.”

It took some nuzzling and gentle pushing, but he managed to
get Almul standing, gently steering them towards the door. “G’on.”

Almul was trembling, but they obeyed, albeit clicking
rapidly and almost pushing back against Alzu. They didn’t want to be moved, but they absolutely wanted to go
the way Alzu was suggesting, and- oh, they wanted to leave, they wanted very
badly to leave.

Alzu stayed close and nuzzled Almul’s scruff the entire
time, crooning gently, and tried not to touch too much aside from the necessary
steering. Almul tended to walk in a fairly straight line when upset like this,
and they needed to be somewhere off to the side. “G’on… trees, see? Gonn’ go
over there an’ sit, hm? Shh, shh- gotcha.”

Once they were behind enough trees to be hidden from
passers-by, Alzu sat down with his back against a tree and crooned enticingly,
patting his legs and trying to lure his friend down. “C’mere- y’wanna touch?
Nice’n soft- c’mere, pet me. Tha’s good, right?”

Yes.

Clicking very softly, Almul fidgeted for a moment, agitated,
then crouched in front of Alzu and reached for him. Making an agitated scraping
noise, they tucked their frame into Alzu’s lap, folding into a little ball and
stroking at his arm with both hands. No, no, no- why? They had been enjoying
things at the bar, enjoying all the people, and then someone had insisted on touching them- hadn’t
listened, hadn’t backed off, had just grabbed-

Almul flinched as two hands slid up under their cloak, but
gradually relaxed at the familiar, slow petting, slumping further against the
soft-furred frame. Alzu was soft, nice- so, so soft. Didn’t feel like before, like the humans who had caused
this, just felt like Alzu. Safe,
comfortable, not about to try anything, just… holding them, trying to comfort,
trying to make them feel better. Nuzzling their helmet- all soft, gentle. Nice.
Almul leaned into Alzu’s snout, clicking in appreciation, and lightly stroked
at all the thick fur on his front. They were still shaking, though, claws
trembling against his frame as they tried to shiver away the sensation of hands
grasping at them, forcing buckles apart, sliding up inside them and manipulating them-

Squawking a harsh sound of metal on metal, Almul shuddered
violently and kicked out, claws scraping on the tree behind Alzu as they tried
to claw away from the memory and the sensations.

“Oh, hah, shh- easy, y’a’ight, shh-“ Alzu crooned, sliding
his hands up further to grip firmly just below where Almul’s cloak was
attached. This was a good spot to touch, it didn’t seem to upset Almul, and
that- that was important right now, he needed to make this better.

Tail waving as much as possible given the position, Alzu
shifted until he could rock slightly, continuing to speak gently and pet
Almul’s frame. “Shh, ‘s a’ight. Ain’t anyone tryin’ anything. I gotcha. Ain’t
gonna haveta worry ‘bout that any more, no one’s gonn’ make y’ do anythin’.
Promise. Ain’t gonn’ let anyone do that t’ ya.”

Alzu continued to rock and croon for several more minutes,
licking gently at the side of Almul’s helm then sighed and shook his head when
it failed to be effective. “This ain’t workin’, huh? A’ight. Bet we can find ya
some water- y’ wanna get washed off? Yeah? C’mon- that’ll help ya. Up, up-
c’mon, shiny, I gotcha. There gotta be near a river here. Always rivers near
human stuff. Up, up.”

Almul rasped unhappily the whole way up, protesting at being
moved, but followed Alzu when he started walking. Alzu could smell water, Alzu
could find water, which meant Almul could get clean, and they wanted that beyond what they could express.
Whining an unpleasant sound of metal quavering against metal, they pressed up
close behind Alzu as they followed, pushing their face into his back now and
then. He smelled like warm fur, sweat, leaf litter, and dead things, not at all
like humans, not like the cloying scent that had taken what felt like weeks to scrub free of their insides-

Hands sliding up under their own chestplate, Almul clawed at
the inside of their plating, trying to scrape away the sensation of sticky heat
and the stink of a furless mammal in
a closed space, and they sped up to get past Alzu and at least try to find some kind of water. Alzu was
not moving fast enough.

“A’ight, I gotcha- c’mon, fast.” Alzu muttered, ears going
back at the sounds, and sped up to just under a run. He wasn’t certain how fast
Almul could run with both hands stuffed into themself, but this would have to
work- that amount of distress was unacceptable.

The river was easy to find, upstream of town judging by the
lack of human-smell, and he wasted no time in stripping off everything he was
wearing in order to get in. “Go on, then, I gotcha, be right in, jus’ go an’
make y’self feel better.”

Almul did not wear clothing, and they would not have cared
if they did. They just plunged directly into the river, wading out until they
were almost submerged, and spread their plating apart far enough to start frantically
scrubbing their insides. The cold of the water pushed away the remembered
sticky heat, but the smell, the texture, was
still there, and it needed to stop, they
needed to get it out-

 

Once the pack was off his back, Alzu went digging around
until he found two items: a bag of coarse sand, and a large, rough cloth.
Pouring some of the sand into the cloth, he folded it a couple of times, then
called out a soft noise and waded into the river. “Shh, hey- gotcha. Uh- gotcha
if ya come out jus’ a li’l bit more, yeah? Y’ in too deep t’ scrub properly,
c’mere where I can see what ah’m doin’- yeah, there we go, c’mon.”

Standing chest-deep in the gently flowing river, Alzu
pressed softly against Almul’s back, stroking and nuzzling gently for a few
moments before touching low on his friend’s stomach. “Hey- lemme in? Jus’ fluff
tha’ plating out, lemme scrub ya clean. Yeah? ‘s okay, though, don’ haveta-
jus’ maybe lemme help? Ah, yeah- there we go, oh, good Almul, tha’s it, good- lemme help.”

Almul obeyed, chirping softly in distress, all the plating
along their front floating apart to let Alzu’s hands in. A quick shudder at the
sensation of armor being pushed further apart, but then it was a touch of fur rather than skin, coarse pawpads
rubbing softly before the cloth was brought to bear. The sand didn’t hurt,
being used like that- in fact, it felt good. Invigorating. More importantly,
cleansing. Rough and firm and familiar, Alzu
trying to make them feel better, Alzu caring
about them, praising them-

Another shudder, softer this time, and Almul went limp
against Alzu’s front with a quiet hiccupping noise (and gesture) that spit fire
from the gaps around their helm. Whirring quietly, they turned their helm to
the side and leaned it against Alzu, their hands slowly coming back out from
their own innards in favor of reaching back to touch Alzu’s sides.

“Yeah… tha’s it. There we go… tha’s better. Good, good… so
good o’ ya t’ lemme try this. We feelin’ better, yeah? Good- gotcha. I gotch- ow, okay, I still gotcha, bu’ could you
move a li’l? Yer leanin’ yer shiny ass on m’ dick, an’ normally I would not
complain ‘bout somethin’ like this, bu’ you are made outta metal- there we go,
thankya. Okay. Still gotcha. You lean all nice on me- ain’t that heavy. Hol’ still, lemme scrub.”

Tongue lolling in a deliberately casual expression, Alzu
leaned the side of his muzzle against Almul’s ‘face’, rubbing his cheek against
the open spaces. He kept scrubbing, as well, shifting around to get at
different spots. The insides of Almul’s chest and abdomen, first, then up into
their shoulders before going down to clean around the insides of their hips. No
sexy comments, though. For once, Alzu was not in the mood for sexy comments.
Nor would Almul want that, of course. Other times, sure, it would be funny. Now,
heck no.  

Right, Alzu was naked. Almul shifted to not lean on any
sensitive parts of him, pushing their face into Alzu’s muzzle, and whined
gently as they began to settle. The sensation of their insides being scoured should probably have been unnerving, but it felt good, and it pushed away
every other feeling in favor of something nice.

After a few minutes, they chirped quietly and nudged Alzu’s
arms until he withdrew, then settled the plating on their front, turned around,
and flared the plating in their back. Pressed chest-to-chest with Alzu, they
waited until his hands were back inside them, this time reaching in to rub at
the inside of their chest, then put their arms around Alzu and squeezed. They
had no voice to speak with, not really, but they purred as softly as possible
and nuzzled into his throat in an effort to make their thanks known. Alzu had
protected them, then brought them here and made them feel better, and it was good. They were thankful. Did- did Alzu
know that? It seemed very important to make sure that Alzu knew that.

Crooning as softly as they could, Almul began to knead at
Alzu’s back, trying to offer their thanks for what he’d done for them. Hopefully
it would be understood, even without words.

“Ah, yeah, I gotcha. Yer welcome. Shh-shh, gotcha- good,
good Almul. Yeah. Feelin’ better now, huh? Y’know, ‘s a good thing fer those
folks who hurt ya that they’re already dead, otherwise I’d’ve killed ‘em all
messy by now. You know I would, right? Yeah. I gotcha. Gotcher back- ain’t
gonna let anyone hurt’cha. An’ you don’ gotta put up wi’ that, ya know, you got fire.” Alzu reminded, letting a growl
slip into his voice, and tightened his grip just slightly. “Y’ can burn people.
Make’m back off. Make’m be dead. Ain’t
gonna be hurt like that ever again. I ain’t gonna let ‘em, you ain’t gonna let ‘em.
Not gonn’ be hurt again, promise. Shh-shh, good- relax. Ah, ‘ere- wanna get
out? Let’s go’n sit an’ be warm, hm? Sit in th’ sun.”

Good- Alzu understood. Almul rumbled in satisfaction, then
gently detached and backed off, turning away to get out of the water. They
paused to duck underwater all the way and flutter their plating, an
invigorating motion that rinsed them clean, then headed for the edge of the
river. It took them some effort, their boots were sinking into the mud and
there were what felt like large insects crawling on their legs, but they
managed to get back to the shore. Even if they had to stop in about a foot of
water to empty the mud out of their legs.

Once completely out of the water, they fluffed their plating
and shook, removing at least the majority of the water from their frame. They
wouldn’t rust if they stayed wet, but it was time to be dry now. Rumbling
softly, they stretched, settling themselves down, then clacked quietly and sat.
Okay- they could sit here, be in the sunlight, and just… relax. Much nicer than
a bar full of loud, grabby people. Less interesting for Alzu, but… this worked.
Right? Was this OK?

Hm, Alzu had vanished under the water and, from what Almul
could see, was trying to stuff something into his mouth. Apparently there was
food. In that case, this was probably fine by Alzu.

Grinning, Alzu raised his head and triumphantly held up a
crayfish, crunching on what were probably more crayfish, then popped the last
one into his mouth and waded back to shore. Pausing a respectful distance away,
he shook himself off, then loped over and flopped onto his belly near Almul. “There
we go. No more li’l noisy scumbags. M’kay- next town? I go to th’ bar an’ I get
drinks, then we sit in, like, a tree, an’ we enjoy th’ stuff an’ don’ haveta
worry ‘bout grabby folks. ‘cos fuck grabby folks. Eh?”

Perfect. Almul chirped in agreement, then edged over,
reached down, and roughly scuffed a hand up and down Alzu’s spine. Alzu liked
this, right? Ah, yes- wagging tail. Alzu liked this.

Their insides still tingled pleasantly from the scrub, every
other feeling had been pushed away in favor of the lingering sensation of rough
pawpads and a sand-filled cloth, and they were sitting in the sun to let their
frame dry. Plus, Alzu was with them, was happy, and specifically was happy
because of something that Almul was doing. That was… mm. That was very nice.

Thank you.